The Rose
by Dr. Cherie
Summary: N.E.W.T.s, the most stressful thing that any seventh year had to ever face, and Rose Weasley was getting the worst of it. What, with Malfoy being annoying as usual, McGonagall making stressful requests and the burden that even the famous Harry Potter might not have had to deal with... God! Survival chances were at 0.01%.
1. Prologue

**HER P.o.V**

There was only one thing that that bushy-headed girl, with the large front teeth (which gave a strange smile) and freckles couldn't stand. And that one specific thing seemed to have sprouted magnets all over. And it was just this bushy-haired girl's luck that she was the metal that it seemed to be attracted to.

This girl, the one with the large front teeth (which gave her a strange smile) and freckles and bushy hair, was Rose Weasley. And it was just her luck that her name was Rose Weasley, because, of all the things in the world, roses were the second most revolting thing that existed (first, of course, being that thing that she just could not stand, the thing that had sprouted magnets). She was allergic to roses: the smell, the colour (red, aargh!), the innumerable layers of petals (which made it look bad, according to her) and most of all, the thorns.

And once again, it was just her luck that her life seemed to be personified by the rose.

There was the smell, the smell of constant fear (of coming last in class, of course) and suspicion (when it came to her two prankster relatives, James Potter and Fred Weasley); there was the colour, red, of both, love and hate, blood and delicious tomato soup (yes, tomato soup, you got a problem with that?); there were, to her life, just like the rose, innumerable layers...layers in her personality, layers in her secrets, layers and more layers in the memories that she had, those ones which had sunk down so far, it was impossible to remove but easy to fall into its ditch...Rose hated all the layers that had her true self covered down there, somewhere where even she was afraid to linger; and of course, the thorns...there was no shortage of thorns in the life of Rose Weasley, and as it happened, recently, these thorns had begun to shape up like the one thing that she just could not stand; the thing with the magnets.

The thing that Rose Weasley called a Malfoy.

* * *

**HIS P.o.V**

A bed of roses blocked his way. He grunted. He hated roses just as much as his mother loved them, and that was saying a LOT. He hated everything about roses, the smell (which made him gag); the colour (red was just too romantic; plus, though he wouldn't ever admit it, he was afraid. And his hemophobic self tried really hard to disguise his fear as disgust).

He hated the word, too. _Rose_...a mushy gushy flower that seemed to symbolize everything he hated: romance, love, blood, flowers, in general and, the most important, a girl. A girl with large front teeth and bushy brown hair and freckles and a compimtuter- (or whatever it was that Muggles used) brain.

The image of the girl was conjured up in his mind, multiplied by millions as her face took the form of every single rose that blocked his way. He yelped and jumped away. That face... those large front teeth that gave her that strange smile that freaked him out, that bunch of bushy, bushy hair...

Scorpius Malfoy woke up with a start.

He had just been dreaming... about the one thing that he hated the most in this world.

The one thing that was called Rose.


	2. Chapter 1

**ROSE P.o.V.**

N.E.W.T.s, the most stressful thing that any seventh year had to ever face, and Rose Weasley was getting the worst of it.

Once every week, a letter came from her mother, through the ancient owl that her father owned (Pigwidgeon II) about her results in Wandlore during the OWLs (oh, the irony!). It was thoroughly unnerving, her mother's constant and potentially life threatening rants about how important it was to study for the NEWTs and how Rose, of all people should, at least, if not more, achieve Outstanding in all subjects (other than Wandlore, because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get herself to understand how something with no visible mind or source for knowledge, could choose its own master). More, of course, would be to achieve an O in that as well...oh well; it wasn't exactly helpful to fantasize, was it?

Back to the rants, Rose was sick and tired of the letters, to say the least. Normally, she would've turned to her father for help but him, though did not care about whether she topped or not, was very adamant about her beating the son of his arch-enemy since school-days.

And this brought her to her second problem: Malfoy, the boy who was a close second in the entire grade when it came to exam ranks and the second best Quidditch player of Hogwarts (first, of course, being her cousin, Albus Severs Potter). The only things Rose could not beat him at were Quidditch (for she preferred solid ground, thank you very much) and Wandlore.

And this brought her to her first problem all over again.

Rose threw down her mother's letter in the fireplace in the Ravenclaw Common Room. She slapped Pig and asked him to leave without offering him any compensation for his extreme effort of flying all the way to Hogwarts to deliver only one letter, which his master had discarded of anyways. He looked old and exhausted, but Rose had lost all sympathy, for he was the one who brought bad news, without fail, every single week.

Promptly, Pig turned to Dan Thomas, Rose's best friend and Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"C'mere, Pig, I'll feed yeh. C'mon, now. I'm better than your know-it-all bunny of a mistress, yeh know. C'mere!" Dodging Rose's Bat-Bogey Hex, he emptied his stash of nuts on the table, bringing an evident (though impossible) smile on Pig's face... or beak.

Rose laughed, like she always did when Dan pampered Pig more than he pampered his girlfriend, like now. Dan was currently dating Eleanor Cabb, her other best friend and partner-in-crimes-that-only-Rose-seem-to-consider-actually-criminal.

Well, think of the devil and, lo! Behold, Eleanor Cabb, straight black hair, Asian eyes, permanent smile on her face which gave more height to her already high cheekbones, if that made any sense.

"Hey, El. What's up with you? You look a bit happier than your normal happy, and I'm already scared." Eyeing her warily, the Ravenclaw pushed her curly brown hair behind her ear. Why did she have to inherit her mother's bushiness! Why!

"I'm fine, thank you. You look pretty fine so excuse me for not asking, though I have news that'll change your mood anyways."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You missed Potions today, right," she said, "so I have been asked to please let you know that Professor Holliday has paired up the students of the class for the final mock practical tests that are to be held on the fourth Thursday after Christmas holidays, where we'll be making the Simplified Polyjuice Potion (For minor changes, like moustaches or skin complexion that may have to be reproduced). "

"What?" The Ravenclaw prefects, both of them, were blank. Dan and Rose stared at El as though she had just recited Shakespeare, which was beyond the understanding of all three of them.

"Long story short, we've been given partners for a series of mock practical tests after Christmas." She looked at Dan, grinning. "I'm with you, honey!"

As Dan grinned uncertainly (owing to El's carelessness in Potions), Rose asked, "Who am I with?"

She grinned slyly. Then she started laughing. Dan caught on, just like Rose did, and started laughing too. The Weasley let out a wail.

"It's Malfoy, right?" El shrugged in response to the question, like, _not my fault._

Second time in a week! Last week, Rose had had to pair up with Malfoy during Charms during a lesson of Disillusionment Charms because Harry Styles (her best best-friend) was sick and Dan and El were together and Malfoy was late so he didn't have anyone to practice with.

Double Charms with her arch-enemy, where they had tried to hex each other in the midst of the practices. A month's worth of detention had actually been worth it, watching Malfoy swell up like a balloon and then burst into millions of miniscule fragments before reforming to his former self. It had been so splendid to watch that Rose had even earned Gryffindor twenty points more than what had been lost for being able to use such advance magic.

Rose groaned. She couldn't risk detention again. Not with mum on the line. So no hexing. They were going to try and behave civilized. SHIT!

"Does Professor Holliday have NO respect for enmity!?"

MALFOY, I'M GONNA KILL YOU.

* * *

_Dear Rose,_

_How are you, love? Have you been studying? Why didn't you reply to my last letter? I'm terribly worried, dear. Please don't let us down. NEWTs are coming, as I'm sure you know. Study hard, okay. But what I'm specifically writing today about is your abysmal results on your Wandlore tests (I know you don't want a reminder, but a T?! That's a bit extreme dear). Professor McGonagall has written to us and very kindly suggested that you take extra tutoring in Wandlore. It would be good for you as well as your dreams of becoming a Healer (which has recently added to it job necessities, the Consequences of Backfiring Wands and Their Properties That Help in Recovery of the Victim). However, Professor thinks that it is not the subject, but he teacher that you are having trouble with, so she has also suggested that you get tutored by someone else. Now this someone happens to be the topper in your grade in the subject of Wandlore, that boy, Scorpius Malfoy. Your father went gaga when he heard the news but then again, we cannot help the fact that there is absolutely nobody else who has picked up the subject as well as he has (none of your other teachers seem very confident about Wandlore themselves) and it is heard that he has been tutoring many of the other weaker students of your grade as well, not just in Wandlore but other subjects too. Professor McGonagall has already asked him whether he would take in another student and he has very gallantly agreed. Now it is only you who has to decide upon a suited time and day for your lessons which would be convenient for both you and him. We were thinking after Christmas, for Professor Ollivander has very firmly said that your syllabus shall be fully covered by then, so it will only be revision with Malfoy. Please, dear, it is only for your benefit that I would ask this off you. Please. Even Ron has agreed, which is saying a LOT._

_Lots of love,_

_Mum._

The first thing that came to her mind was hiding it from El. There was no way she'd let her know that she was gonna have to be tutored by MALFOY. But, too late. She had been reading from behind Rose's back.

There she was now, giggling away to joy and whispering to Dan and Harry. All of them seemed to find this funny, and were having a hard time controlling their fits of laughter.

"Aargh!"

"Rose, when would you be free to grace your tutoring lessons with your new best friend?"

"Yeah, man, that day at Charms, then partners in Potions and now tutoring? Please Rose; don't ditch us for that hottie." El had the most annoying innocent face ever.

"Yeah, Rose, we'll miss you..."

"Shut up, guys. Not funny. Shut up before I hex you all to Jupiter, or worse, McGonagall's office."

Yes, magnet. There is no other word for it. My life sucks.

SCORPIUS MALFOY, I'M GONNA KILL YOU.

Christmas at the Weasley household was a disappointment to miss but this year; Rose felt a terrible dread as Christmas settled in. The closer they got to the holidays, the more intense would be her hatred towards Malfoy, as he never missed a chance to brawl about how well he scored in Wandlore and how he was kind enough to tutor those in need of his time and attention and that too, free of charge.

On the last day of the term, Hermione sent to Rose another letter regarding her Wandlore tuitions. _Please decide on a time and day soon for you will have to start as soon as term begins next year_.

Of course, Rose was gonna skip it. There was no way she was going up to Malfoy and going to beg him to tutor her. He'd probably just brag about himself anyways and there was no way Rose would stand the humiliation he would inflict upon her. Nope, the task could be skipped. Perhaps, then, she wouldn't have to take tuitions at all. Maybe everybody will forget.

Oh yeah, everybody will forget, her arse! Oh, man! What was she getting at!'

McGonagall called her to her office later that day, after lunch hour.

"So, Weasley, have you spoken to Mr. Malfoy yet? About your tutoring timings?" so she knew. Rose cursed herself inwardly.

"No, Professor, I haven't got the chance. "

"Well, then do it immediately, Weasley. This means a lot to all of us, your grades. Please, Weasley, live with it for a while. You won't regret it later. None of us will..." she looked so grave, Rose almost asked why it was so important. Somehow she held herself.

But McGonagall seemed to have heard the question in the silence anyways. She looked at her long and grave then said:

"Come, Weasley." Rose followed in silence.

They entered a side chamber of the spacious Headmistress' office. When she stepped in the room, she gasped. The walls were like a three-sided movie screen showing only one big picture. It was the picture of a boy, a man... actually, Rose couldn't tell... his face was a dirty, blotchy green; his arms and legs were four in total but Rose couldn't tell them from each other; his hair had grown all over his head and face, giving him an unshaped beard, unnaturally large moustache and an overall gorilla like face.

Rose let out a small cry of a number of things: sympathy, pity, contempt, anxiousness...

"I know, Weasley, I know exactly how you feel..."

Silence, where Rose mentally fainted and then she stammered:

"P-professor, he-he'll be alright won't he? I recognize that place; it is St. Mungo's. They'll have to fix up. They will r-right...?"

And this is when doomsday officially began.

"Consequences of Backfiring Wands (Which Need the Understanding of Their Properties for Recovery of the Victim)...as of yet, incurable damages have been caused in this field...it's no wonder the Ministry have added more to a Healer's job requirements..."

Rose stared, uncomprehendingly. And then it hit her.

"But, why can't current Healers learn Wandlore, then they'd be able to cure him."

"There are no volunteers. People are scared, Weasley."

"Scared? Of WHAT?!"

"Scared because anyone who has ever managed to get the victim of such a curse even close to decent has never been seen alive again. In one case, the Healer's arm was found and others have seemed to disappear. It seems that the person who has cursed them wanted them to stay that way too."

Suddenly, Rose was angry. WHY WOULD SHE HAVE TO RISK HER LIFE THEN? She was a kid, not even seventeen yet! And SHE would have to risk being taken away to starve in some dark and dingy and damp place for the rest of her then-would-be short life, until some maniac decided to have mercy and kill her. Unknowingly, she started yelling, at Professor McGonagall, no less.

"THEN WHY DO I TAKE THE RISK, HUH?! TELL ME, PROFESSOR! WHY MUST I DO IT! WHY CAN'T ANY OF THE AURORS DO IT? WHY DO I RISK MY LIFE, UNDERAGE, THAT TOO, FOR T-THIS MAN, WHO I DON'T EVEN KNOW! WHY MUST I DO IT! I DECLINE THE OFFER, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!"

"There are reasons, Weasley. It is essential that it must be you. Nobody else is supposed to – is able to..."

"What reasons, Professor?" Even when she asked, Rose knew McGonagall wouldn't tell her. But she had to know. "Tell me, Professor, or I won't do it. I won't WANT to, I won't make the effort. Tell me, please..."

The Headmistress walked to an ancient cupboard in one side of the office. She motioned for Rose to follow. There, lying inside was a Pensieve. Before she had the time to register anything, they were falling... faster... faster still... and then they landed. Hard.

_They were in a small room, like an attic. Boxes and trunks and piles of junk left no place for anyone else, save for an old woman who sat across from another, younger-looking lady with very bushy hair, and a lanky man with freckles and a fire-like persona. With a start, Rose recognized her parents. The old woman had insect-like eyes, magnified by a hundredfold by her humongous glasses, resting at the tip of her nose._

"_Former Professor Trelawney, granddaughter of a celebrated Seer, she taught Divination many years ago when your parents were in school," said McGonagall, who happened to be standing right next to her. "Just watch now."_

_Trelawney was silent. Then, when Hermione cleared her throat for the eighth time and Ron snored his first, the old woman jumped. When she spoke, her voice was raspy and faraway, like she was in a trance. Ron woke up with a start._

"_**Seventeen, she shall come of age,**_

_**The true horrors of life she'll face,**_

_**For he who made her smile at birth,**_

_**Will make her weep for Death's mirth,**_

_**Adult now, but still child at heart, **_

_**She demonstrates magical art,**_

_**Her worst enemy is stronger than she,**_

_**And no one knows who the victor will be,**_

_**For a Muggle power interferes in her favour,**_

_**Which the Adversary does not savour,**_

_**The risks are those she cannot shun,**_

_**And thus, the Will shall be done."**_

_Trelawney collapsed and Hermione buried herself in Ron's arms, shaking. Then she looked up and grimly, they both nodded._

Suddenly, they were back in the Headmistress' office.

"And that," said McGonagall, "is why you must be the one to do it."

"BUT THAT COULD BE ANYBODY!"

"No, Weasley, it cannot. Trelawney personally asked to see your parents. She had a vision, a vision regarding you and charmed herself so that she could repeat the Prophecy to your parents. When she made the original Prophecy, the very same one for the first time, it was in this very cabin, she was waiting for me, the only witnesses being the portraits. When I came in and heard about it, I well, I was shocked. Even more so when she said it was to be Ron Weasley's daughter, nobody else. You were nine years old that time, I think..."

"But Professor, who is it that made me 'smile at birth'? Who will make me 'weep for Death's mirth?' "

McGonagall nodded at the screen on the three walls. The man.

Astonishment merged with terrible grief and it was then that Rose thought about how her parents had nodded at each other, grim but with steely acceptance, as though they had the inner feeling that Rose could manage this. They'd agreed to let their daughter take on a job so risky, dangerous to her own life! For this man, this unknown stranger...

"Who is he Professor?"

"He is my brother, Garth McGonagall." For the first time in Rose's entire life, she heard McGonagall's voice waver. It was thoroughly unnerving.

"Do my parents know him, Professor?"

"He is – was – the Head of the Auror Department. He was fired, temporarily, and replaced by Mr. Potter, though it took a lot of persuasion as Potter said he did not think himself worth the t-title that h-he h-held... Ronald Weasley was really close to him; he, Garth, was seconded only by Potter (though, of course, you, your mother and brother came first). He came to congratulate your parents when you were born. When you saw him, you smiled. Apparently, it was your first..."

"Who cursed him, Professor?" asked Rose, trying to cover up the awkward silence that ensued, McGonagall on the verge of tears, Rose still recovering from her rage.

What she heard next, shocked her more than anything else had yet.

"No one is sure, but after thorough examination of multiple pieces of evidence (all confidential, of course), it has come to be believed that it may be Frank and Alice Longbottom." There was no mistaking the rising temper in McGonagall's voice.

IMPOSSIBLE.

Rose almost said something, but McGonagall cut her off.

"THERE IS NO WAY WE CAN CONVINCE THEM OTHERWISE, ROSE! NO WAY! I'VE TRIED, SO HAVE YOUR PARENTS AND POTTER AND OF COURSE, NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM, TOO, AND EVRY OTHER PERSON WHO KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT THEM! BUT ALL THE EVIDENCE IS AGAINST US! PLEASE, HE HAS TO RECOVER. HE HAS TO TELL US WHO IT WAS."

Rose was crying now, sobbing for herself and the Prophecy and her fate, weeping for the Longbottoms, howling at the pitiful state of Garth McGonagall.

"Please, Weasley...live with it for a while..."

Yes, doomsday had officially begun...


	3. Chapter 2

**SCORPIUS P.o.V.**

_Why? Why am I so good?_

This question had been asked several hundred times by Scorpius to himself, but to no avail. He just couldn't answer the query; he was naturally cursed with this inability to deny people help when they asked it off him. Poor little people came to him due to his superior abilities in wizardry. He couldn't say no now, could he?

And that's what had gotten him into the most terrible fix ever.

Weasley...he was going to have to tutor Weasley!

Like, not the WHOLE family was bad... The Potters were okay, Albus was his best friend, being a former Slytherin. Fred Weasley was a bit of a show off, as was James Potter, but they had brilliant pranks up their sleeves and Malfoy and Albus had been, more than once, colleagues and victims for them.

But the rest? Scorpius hated all of them.

Victorie, who as he had heard, was stunningly beautiful but was so blonde, she couldn't tell a bezoar from a normal stone, not to mention her attitude, especially when it came to the Yule Ball that they had had when she was in school. Ouch! Then there was Hugo, who wasn't exactly bright when the topic didn't concern chess; and then Lily Potter, who'd never hesitate to hex him to Jupiter and leave it there if he ever annoyed Rose, or Hugo, for that matter. She'd hated him from the very beginning. And the rest of the Weasleys were all the same...stupidly brave, Gryffindor-ites who tended to assume that all Slytherins were incarnations of Voldemort, the two-and-a-half-decade-old super-bad Dark wizard. UGH!

And then there was Weasley. Like, Weasley, the one with the large front teeth, strange smile, bushy hair and (though he'd never publically admit it) brilliant brain.

And of everyone, he was going to have to tutor her.

"...and then I said to her – ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING, MALFOY?!"

"Yeah, Al, shut up a bit, please. I'm busy feeling sorry for myself."

"Have I ever told you what a self-obsessed git you are, Malfoy?"

"Yeah, about ninety-nine times in the past two months."

"Well, cheers to my century, but Malfoy, you're the most self-obsessed git I have ever met."

"Hey! YOU don't have to tutor Weasley, okay! You're not gonna have to spend your second term sitting and trying to push stuff into that oversized head of hers."

"Oh, c'mon, Rosie isn't that bad, you're over exaggerating. I mean, yeah, she will try to hex you about hundred times in every hour, but you can't blame her...you started it after all..." He had that horrible amused look on his face that made me want to throw him off the Astronomy Tower.

"It was NOT my fault. I didn't do any of it. She just kept going on and on and on..."

He was referring to, of course, that incident in first year, that incident that had triggered the enmity that had carried on for all these years.

"Really?" Al raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you the one who had hexed her so she couldn't stop running towards the Giant Squid? And weren't you the one who told her that the Squid ate only half-bloods. And weren't you the one who had charmed her textbook so that it agreed with whatever nonsense you told her about the Squid?"

Scorpius held back his laughter. Oh, good times...

"But then, wasn't it ME myself who had lifted he charm off her so that she could stop running. And hadn't I returned her own wand back in on piece?"

"Oh, that's not a valid point! She didn't realize the charm was lifted, she had to keep running. And that too, she was running right AT the Giant Squid!"

"Oh, yeah, remember her face?" The memory was too much, Malfoy burst into fits of laughter. "Also – I told her – I told her – that the charm – it was lifted..." It was hard to talk in between his giggles. "I yelled; it's not my fault she didn't hear me..."

Albus, who too snorted a bit at the memory, ignored Malfoy's comment and asked, "But where did you find those charms, man? That's not first year magic! It's really advance magic for a first year!

"Yeah, I had a couple of my dad's books. Plus, I'm a genius!"

"You know, that's the only reason James and Fred decided like you... they'd had a few reasons for revenge on Rosie. You sorted it all out."

"Yeah... I guess..."

Scorpius did not add that he had been the one, who out of his unfortunate curse of goodness, charmed her so she could stop. Everyone thought it was Flitwick, who had arrived in time. All Flitwick had done was transport the Squid away to the depths of the Great Lake...

He wondered, fleetingly, whether things would be different if he had admitted to his actions... probably not...

* * *

**ROSE P.o.V.**

The second game of the season had drawn to a close and, in the midst of all the hustle at the pitch for better seats and the scores of students laying bets on who would win (Slytherin or Ravenclaw) Rose Completely-Screwed-Up Weasley found herself a seat in one corner of the pitch. Not much of a view but then again, they were brilliant seats for someone who didn't understand the Q in Quidditch.

She knew, of course, that Gryffindor had lost against Slytherin in the first game, but she had missed it for she was, absurdly, alone in the Common Room, with another futile effort at understanding Wandlore, which she had expected to be able to concentrate on in the complete silence that ensued indoors during a Quidditch game.

This time, though, she wouldn't miss it, for James, Hugo, Lily and Fred (who all played on the Gryffindor team) would literally kill her if she did ("You'd rather die than live without Quidditch," they'd say, shrugging. God!).

The game began. Twenty minute later, the score was twenty-forty to Ravenclaw. It went on and on and on, like a never ending Shakespeare drama, where nothing made sense, but people cheered anyways. Soon, after about forty-five minutes, Rose was getting more and more distracted. She began noticing things...

The sky seemed darker that night, the purple clouds hanging overhead like the candyfloss that she was treated to every year at the Muggle fun fair that her mum loved. Muggle candyfloss... Mm... And Muggle computers, and video games and movies and iPods, the cell phones and lame pranking tricks and the way they screamed –

_BANG!_

Yes, BANG! That's how the fireworks went of... theirs weren't magical but so much more magical than the wizard kinds in their own Muggle way. And the guns, they went BANG! too.

Wait, where did the gun come from?

And then she realized: the shot.

_BANG!_

Someone had just fired a shot; and that too from a Muggle gun. She was sure it was a Muggle gun. Nothing else could make a sound like that.

* * *

**SCORPIUS P.o.V.**

Ravenclaw was winning! That's bad news. Not that it was much of a surprise but really, but one might've thought that all those new players on the Slytherin team might've been any good. On the contrary to that however, the new team was HORRIBLE! Even worse than the team last year and that is like breaking a Ptolemy Wizarding World Record!

Within a few minutes, Weasley's friend Styles had scored two goals already, while the Quaffle had reached nowhere _near_ the Ravenclaw goalposts. Airborne on his Masterzoom, Malfoy lost his balance for a moment as the throng in the spectators' stands hooted and booed at the third Ravenclaw goal.

Scorpius groaned. It would be a tough season if Ravenclaw won this game.

Another goal was scored and Scorpius was glad to see that it was in favour of Slytherin. He looked about desperately for the Snitch while a round of cheers went up like –

_BANG!_

And suddenly, after a moment of absolute pin-drop silence, pandemonium broke out in the pitch.

Someone had just fired a shot. From a Muggle gun, too, no less. Mudbloods! Oh, Mudbloods!

* * *

Scorpius Malfoy was astonished as to how fast rumours in Hogwarts, or any place for that matter, could travel... and disappear too...

Today, two whole weeks after the incident at the Quidditch pitch, Scorpius entered the Great Hall only find about eight first-years talking about how they'd heard from various sources (including the unreliable gossip-mongers of Hogwarts the portraits) that the shot was fired from a mysterious man in a cloak who looked absurdly like the former Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape, while someone else said it was fired by a student who had been drinking a bit too much in his dormitory out of bottles of firewhisky that their relatives had sent to them.

Scorpius heard seven other theories, too, each stupider than the previous, but all screaming only one thing: the shot had been fired by a Slytherin.

Rage boiled inside Malfoy. Slytherins were NOT bad! Why didn't people understand that! He walked to the Slytherin table to meet Al and his other mate, Blake Zabini. They were also discussing the rumours.

"...it just CANNOT be a Slytherin! Are people really that dumb?!Why would a Slytherin even use a MUGGLE weapon! It was a Ravenclaw, I'm sure! They were probably upset that we scored a goal! I mean, the shot was, after all, fired at Goyle, right!"

Albus nodded fervently at Blake's theories.

Scorpius sat down and helped himself to some breakfast. That's when Professor McGonagall got up and cleared her throat. The Hall immediately fell silent.

"I am here, this morning, to clear the doubts that all of you have been bringing to me about the unfortunate incident that took place during the Quidditch game a couple of weeks ago." She paused. "The first thing that I want to make clear to you is this: THE SHOOTER WAS NOT A SLYTHERIN! So stop that nonsense about Voldemort – the crowd gasped – being back because those are just silly rumours. It was, as I told you the morning after the incident itself, an unknowing student who had found the FAKE Muggle gun under his seat (undoubtedly a toy owned by a Muggle-born who is yet to claim ownership) and tried to use it, not knowing what it was. IT WAS A TOY GUN, FOR GOODNESS' SAKE! It did not do Mr. Goyle any harm at all! He was quite alright, just shocked when the piny-pongy balls (or whatever you call them) started attacking him!" The Muggle-borns and half-bloods laughed. Obviously, McGonagall had made a mistake in naming some Muggle artefact.

Nevertheless, Scorpius was happy it was cleared. It couldn't have after all, been an actual attacker, now, could it?

Oh, who was he kidding?

Scorpius had only one secret, other than his blood-phobia one. He had seen one figure, seated at the very corner of the pitch, get up with a gun in hand and disappear right after the game's abrupt end. And the figure had gone straight inside Hogwarts. And he was sure that wasn't a toy gun because he had seen a bullet go astray towards the Forbidden Forest, passing a couple of inches away from Goyle's humongous head.

* * *

**ROSE P.o.V.**

The week before Christmas break began, Albus, Rose's cousin came up to Rose during breakfast and wordlessly handed her a letter that Uncle Harry had sent him.

_Dear Al,_

_How're things at school? I heard about the shooting and honestly, I couldn't stop laughing when I heard it'd been some Pureblood working a Muggle toy. It sounded pretty amusing._

_Anyways, this letter is about our plans for the holidays. You remember how you'd wanted to, so desperately, meet my cousin, Dudley? Well, guess what!? Dudley dear had written to me a few days ago relating the news about the death of my Aunt Petunia, so many years after Uncle Vernon had passed on. _

_Now, in his letter Dudley requested me to show him around the magical world, for since his parents were dead, he could risk actually betraying any signs of interest in our world and ways. To oblige with my cousin, and restore spoiled relations, I have managed to get the Minister to approve of my request to take Dudley and his family to see the Quidditch World Cup Finals that will be held on the 27__th__ of December and show them around Godric's Hollow too. _

_This brings me to our plans: this year, our Christmas and New Years will be spent at your grandparents' house (in Godric's Hollow) with your Uncle Dudley and his family! _

_The only drawback of this would be that this year, our holidays shall not be spent with the Weasleys and Longbottoms like always (though Aunt Mione and Uncle Ron have both been infected with Spattergoit and have already sent Rose and Hugo letters asking them to stay back at Hogwarts for the holidays anyways), and Uncle Neville and Aunt Luna both have... work. So they're busy too. Perhaps we're lucky, that way!_

_See you soon, _

_Dad._

Just as Rose finished reading, Pig flew in with the letter from her Mum. Not bothering to read it, since she already knew its contents, Rose left it on the table and turned to Al.

"My parents have Spattergoit!"

"Yeah, but don't worry. Remember Uncle Neville had found a way last year to get rid of it? Something about using Mimbelus-mimbletonia? Well, it'll take about a month, but they'll be okay anyways. Chill! Anyways, Christmas at Hogwarts is great! Always, without fail, like first year, you know, when we stayed back for Christmas?!"

Relatively convinced, Rose let out a relieved breath and handed Al back his letter.

'I'll just stop by and give Hugo and James the news too. James will be thoroughly excited. He's wanted to prank Muggles ever since he knew that he has some as relatives! God! I'll tell Hugo about your parents too. Just remember to tell McGonagall that you're staying back okay, like for Christmas."

McGonagall! Oh shit! She had had to talk to Malfoy!

Without hesitating, or answering by friends' questions about where she was going, Rose walked up to the door of the Great Hall where Malfoy was, thankfully alone, waiting for Al to return.

"I suppose you know what I'm here about, Malfoy?"

Malfoy smirked. Oh, she hated that guy!

"Need help, Nest-Head?

"Shut up, NOW! Just tell me when we can finish with the sessions. I have other work too. The faster we finish the better."

"I heard your parents have Spattergoit, huh, Weasley? I read Mr. Potter's letter..."

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Hey, Malfoy and... Rose! T'sup, people!?" Albus looked like he he'd suffered a sugar-shock. His eyes were lit up and a permanent smile seemed etched on his face.

"Al, just tell your friend to shut up about my parents and tell me when he can take tutorials."

"Oh, that...well, Rose, aren't you here for Christmas? Scorp stays at school too. His parents are always on some business trip or another. So can't you finish it then? I mean, if you don't mind spending your holidays in lessons..." Albus looked almost pitiful, like it was a hard job to think at that moment. perhaps he was just a little too excited about Christmas.

Rose stared. Malfoy stayed at SCHOOL? When he had his own huge mansion? Wow! Well, at least she wouldn't have to waste time during school for this.

"Fine then, Malfoy. Holidays sound okay?" Rose didn't want to. That's just ruining the holidays. But then again, it was better than wasting time doing nothing.

He nodded. And then it was settled.


	4. Chapter 3

**SCORPIUS P.o.V.**

Today was their first lesson. Really great, isn't it?

They were to meet outside the Room of Requirements at precisely 7 p.m. Why the Room of Requirements? Because that was the only place where they could find anything and everything they needed (and they'd need a lot of things) so that Rose could understand.

Weasley was there when he arrived outside the bare wall that was the entrance to the Room at around 7:45.

"Great timing, Malfoy," she said, sounding irritated.

Malfoy was grinning his winning, charming grin. Rose looked at him disgustedly. Years of hatred pounded in his ears, masked behind his grin. For some reason, however, he could not bring himself to hex her right then, but then again, he knew they'd come around to it in a couple of minutes, anyways.

He held her hand. She flinched. Then he chanted, as she stiffened against his grip.

"A place where we can practice Wandlore. A place where we can practice Wandlore. A place where we can practice Wandlore."

The door appeared and they entered.

And as they did, a strong stench of roses attacked.

Rose coughed and gasped and spluttered, holding onto tighter to his hand, perhaps, than she intended. He wasn't much better, though, as he too had started coughing violently.

"Easy – easy on the flowers p-please!" He gasped between coughs.

Immediately, the stench lessened. Immediately, Rose let go of his hand.

They both looked at each other accusingly. "I hate roses." They probably hadn't meant to yell it out together, but they had, and now they stared at each other, shocked.

Then Scorpius started laughing. "Rose Weasley... ROSE Weasley hates roses! Ah, that's... strange! Oh my...!" and he was reduced to a lump of flesh shaking in its mirth, down on his knees, head thrown back, knuckles in his mouth to control the laughter that wouldn't stop.

"Silencio!" Rose hexed him pretty accurately and he promptly shut up, though he was still shaking. It took him a full ten minutes to get over the laughter and even then, he looked at her amusedly.

"Malfoy, stop being such an immature git, please! Just finish off with this lesson okay! IT IS NOT FUNNY! STOP LAUGHING!"

"Whatever you say, _Rose_!"

Rose looked like she was having trouble biting back her retort. He was pretty sure she hated her name more than anything in the world right now, except him, obviously.

When she had lifted the hex off him, Malfoy got up and scanned his surroundings. It was a place he recognized. Then it hit him. This was Madame Lucy's wand shop which had recently opened in France. His father had been invited for the inauguration. Apparently, the Beauxbatons students came here for their wands. But of course, it was shut down now, at this time of the night. And all that remained were the wands and Lucy's roses! Ugh!

After about twenty minutes of more arguing, hexing and then using the Room of Requirements to cure them off the hexes, the lesson actually began.

And suddenly, seriousness took over Scorpius like no other. This always happened when he was teaching anyone anything. Like he was afraid they might not understand properly. He talked a lot more when he was teaching too, using as many words as he could to try and explain the concept properly.

"Right, so the first thing that you need to know about Wandlore: the wand chooses the wizard. There, I've said it. You understand that and everything else will make sense."

"And that exactly is what I DON'T understand, Malfoy! The wand CANNOT choose the wizard! It CANNOT! Because that would require it to be appointed, right! And in a duel, if say, I win your wand, how does the WAND know that?! HOW!?"

Malfoy sighed. Weasley was an idiot. "Weasley, these are wands! They're magical! Don't you understand that! MAGIC! They have magical cores, they're made from the finest wood, and they have magical properties! They're MADE in a way that they can connect to the flesh and bones of a magical being that can equal their value, their strength. All it needs is a balance!"

"Balance? What balance? You're not telling me that wizards of superiority get BETTER wands and INFERIOR wizards (obviously Muggle-borns according to you) get those of not as much strength?! THAT IS UNFAIR!"

"Weasley, you're an idiot! What I mean by BALANCE is simple! I thought you had brains." He paused and it was evident that he had struck a nerve. Quickly, he continued. "Okay, imagine this: I give you a loaf of bread, say, and then give you two options, chicken soup or dragon blood. What would you choose? The soup right? 'Cause dragon's blood would taste absolutely DISGUSTING! It's the same with the wand! You simply cannot put two and three together and expect it to make four! There is ONLY one wand that belongs to you. ONE! All others are mere replacements or rewards. The wand chooses the wizard that it thinks will fit it the best. Your personality, confidence... everything counts."

"Dragon blood?"

"It's edible!" he defended himself, then promptly changed the topic.

"Weasley, you remember when you went to Ollivander's before first year to get your wand. What was the first thing that came to your mind when Ollivander asked you to do magic?"

Malfoy saw Rose thinking.

"I imagined a streak of gold... I imagined it taking the form of a bird and flying away."

"That's it. It symbolizes your want for freedom; or your loyalty to Ravenclaw. Either way, only one wand would see it fit to obey that command. Only one wand would be confident enough to serve you, one wand with enough magical properties, enough power for different spells, to suit the needs it thinks you have, and that it the wand that you hold right now, okay. Am I making sense?"

Rose shook her head, sheepishly.

"Look, Weasley, look. Trust me, it's cake. And if you can't understand, no one in the grade can. It's simple. It's like a dog. Okay, if you told your pet dog to sit, he'd obey. But say a guest came over for a dinner. What are the chances that the dog would obey him. None, right? But yet, the dog has its own sense! He knows that you're his master. And he'll know that if anything happens to you, he'd have to obey your brother! It's the same with the wand. Unless you're completely out of the picture, there is no one else the wand will answer to! NOW do you get it? It's simple? Are you understanding?"

Even Scorpius was surprised at the gentleness with which he explained. What the hell!?

But Rose nodded. That was good. Good. _Thank God!_

_"_Okay, well, just write down some stuff I'll dictate and... study them for homework."

Weasley snorted. "Homework? Seriously?"

"Shut up, and write."

He dictated key points, a list of properties and homework exercises, all of them brought from several different references form the library.

"Well, then, that's enough for tonight. I can't really deal with idiots much longer anyways."

"Neither can I stand a greasy know-it-all. G'night, Malfoy." And he thought he saw her smile. For the first time in their lives, she smiled at him. And he sort of smiled back.

And then they retired for the night, each to their own dormitories. But Scorpius could not shake off tingling that remained on his hand, where she had held his hand over a matter of roses.

* * *

**ROSE P.o.V.**

If Rose thought back on her first lesson with Malfoy, in the Room of Requirements, she might've admitted (only to herself) that it went really well. The way Malfoy yelled to try to get her to understand, it worked... sort of...

At least he explained it better than Ollivander...

But she wouldn't tell El that.

Eleanor, who had stayed back for the holidays with her, had jumped out of bed when she had heard Rose enter the dormitory.

"HOW WAS IT! WHAT HEX DID YOU USE ON HIM!?"

And Rose had told her, about how he'd laughed when they'd entered to find the strong stench of roses and how she'd admitted to hating them. She told her how she'd Silenced him, and how they'd duelled later. She exaggerated the argument that took place when he was teaching but missed out the parts when he'd called her an idiot. She was sure El would see right through her and take the mickey out of her because she'd be able to tell that the comment bothered Rose.

And Rose also missed out the part when she's held his hand, when the strong stench of Roses had attacked. And how Rose had smiled at him and the end of the session. And how he'd smiled back. And how he'd actually seemed human when he'd explained the concept in the end, when he'd used the dog as an example.

Rose was still having a tough time getting over that part.

_Why?_ But she still couldn't answer that question.

When she would be able answer that question, eight days later, she'd be shocked by the answer.

* * *

In the next week, Rose had lived through twelve tutoring lessons with Malfoy. All because of McGonagall. And as it happened, Rose had actually gotten used to it. The arguing, controlling herself from hexing him, reminding herself of that poor man at St. Mungo's, who needed her, of all other people.

And every day, her fear increased. She got more confident in Wandlore, but her inner confidence was shattering by the minute. What if she made a mistake? What if she ended up killing poor old Garth McGonagall instead of curing him? No one would forgive her, not McGonagall, not her parents, not the Minister of Magic, no one. And who, from everyone, was her worst enemy?

She had also started having nightmares.

All her dreams involved her parents getting arrested and put in a cell which she would be thrown into as well, along with the dead body of Mr. McGonagall.

El tried confronting her about it but every time, Rose averted herself from answering. Then one day, when all four of them (Dan, El, Harry and Rose) were sitting in the Common Room, El asked again and Rose could think of no way to avoid answering. And before she knew it, the whole story leaked out, in front of Dan, El and Harry.

El had been speechless, to say the least. Dan put his head down on the table and did not come back up for a long time. Harry put his arm around Rose's shoulders and let her sob, not saying a word.

Then, after about twenty minutes of just staring at Rose, El burst into tears. Apparently, she'd just understood fully the gravity of the situation.

"Rose, I'm so sorry! Oh Rose!"

"Look, Rose, if you need any help with... anything, just ask, okay... please... anything we can do..." And Dan put down his head one more time, and though she was unsure, Rose might've seen a tear trickling down his cheek, neck, into his shirt.

Harry still hadn't said a word. He looked shocked. And sad and suddenly, his handsome features turned into something almost pitiful, like no matter what he had already, it could not compensate for the torture he was going through...

Rose was touched. She did not know, could not believe her friends would care so much... maybe El wasn't that surprising, but Harry and Dan, too...

The foursome sat there for the rest of the night, trying to make conversation, forcing smiles and pretending to study, like everything was normal.

All in all, it was the best worst-day ever.

* * *

Two days before Christmas Eve, Rose and Scorpius decided to take the day off and just take one morning session of the tutoring lessons, for they had covered nearly the entire syllabus anyways and that neither felt like studying when Christmas was so close. Instead, Malfoy challenged Rose to a snowball fight after the lesson and Rose was all game for it. So what if she couldn't hex him; pelting him with snowballs would be just as fun.

"Malfoy."

"Weasley."

They nodded at each other in acknowledgement. In the past week, no repetition of the gentle smiles that they had exchanged during their first lesson took place. They had managed to stop themselves from trying to kill each other, and that seemed like quite a milestone. Still, Rose found herself hoping he would smile again, just as a reassurance that it had actually happened the first time...

Perhaps, they could say they were friends too, but in a weird sort of way. More like acquaintances. Mutual acknowledgment of each others' existence, with little or no effort to jinx the other.

They talked sometimes, of things other than Wandlore, and as it happened, they had lots in common, other that hatred for roses.

Neither liked Potions, but both were equally good. Both were being pestered continuously by their parents to score top grades in the NEWTs and even though no one mentioned it, Rose got the feeling that the Malfoys, too, were hoping that their son would beat her, just like her parents wanted Rose to beat Malfoy. They had read many of the same books (Symy's Collection of Wizarding Horrors, Manners the Mane-less Wise Centaur, Tales of Beadle the Bard, Hippogriff Hitler and The Knights of the No-Man's Land), though Rose also read Muggle stories while Malfoy seemed horrified at the thought.

They had differences too, one of the main being the fact that Rose feigned any interest in Quidditch while Malfoy breathed for it.

"But you never miss the games, do you, Weasley? You're always at the pitch..."

Ignoring the fact that Malfoy had actually noticed, Rose answered, "Well, you realize I have a whole family of Quidditch players who'd slay me if I missed watching Slytherin getting crushed." For the second time in all their lessons, she smiled, genuinely.

"Oh, please! Last year, we won the Quidditch cup, Al and I. Where was Ravenclaw then? And Gryffindor?"

"Once you win, Malfoy and suddenly you're all high up on cloud nine?"

"Well, it's the broom, you see. My Masterzoom, it takes me real high."

And suddenly Rose was laughing, for the first time since McGonagall's office that night, Rose was actually laughing. It wasn't even that funny. And Malfoy was laughing with her. And it was blissful, how easy it was to forget. It was as though no Prophecy existed, NEWTs were suddenly cancelled and the man named Garth McGonagall did not exist. Simple laughter that meant the world to Rose Weasley.

"I don't – I don't get m-much of a view, you know... I'm always occupying the corner seats. Like the Ravenclaw/Gryffindor game. I was at the extreme right. So I just ran into t-the castle when I y'know, heard the shot..."

Scorpius stopped laughing.

"You were at the extreme right?"

"Yes, I heard the shot, it was pretty close too. Gave me quite a fright..."

"And you left right after it?"

"Um, yeah... I was scared, okay!"

Malfoy stared. And then, quicker than lightening, he Petrified her.

"IT WAS YOU! I SHOULD'VE KNOWN! MUGGLE WEAPONS! ATTACKING THE SLYTHERIN KEEPER! I SHOULD'VE GUESSED WHAT A FOUL LITTLE GIT YOU ARE!"

"Malfoy, wha–"

"DON'T PRETEND! YOU'RE LUCKY, I'M NOT GONNA RUN OFF TO MCGONAGALL! IT WAS HARMLESS, BUT STILL! YOU WERE JUST JEALOUS! I SHOULD'VE KNOWN!" And then he stormed out of the Room of Requirements, leaving Rose all alone to deal with getting the curse off her. It wasn't tough, seeing that she was in the Room of Requirements, but she was on the verge of tears.

She hadn't fired the shot! Why had he though she had!

And for a very random reason, disappointment at the thought that the snowball fight was definitely cancelled now engulfed Rose the entire day, leaving her in a foul mood.

* * *

**SCORPIUS P.o.V.**

It had been Weasley! _Weasley!_ How could he have missed it! Of course, she was the most competent student ever. She couldn't bear losing! And she had understood that the Ravenclaw keeper was getting distracted!

But still, _Weasley_?

Wasn't she the girl who hated Quidditch more than anything in the world? The girl who cared only about becoming a Healer...? The girl he had thought (and very wrongly so) might be a good friend? Someone he was actually beginning to get comfortable with? Someone who he had almost told about what was happening at home...

It was like needles right through his heart. He had almost trusted her... and she had turned out to be the traitor... he might've complained, but that would be really... well, Weasley-like.

Yes, he was a Prefect but he wasn't a Weasley.

_Especially not a Weasley who cheated only to win. _


	5. Chapter 4

**THIRD PERSON P.o.V.**

They were to meet the Muggles at a Muggle fast food restaurant the day before the Finals in a small village that lay in between the World Cup location and the Dursley's household. This village was Grindyville.

When they reached, the Potters realized they were there early. They caught a table for ten, for the Dursleys too, were a clan of five. Amidst random conversation, the family did not seem to notice the passing of time.

Then a voice, a female voice that Harry seemed familiar with, spoke:

"Harry! Harry, it's been a long time!"

His first thought was that Aunt Petunia wasn't really dead and that the whole thing was a hoax. Then, he chided some sense into himself as he turned to face the source of the voice. What he saw surprised him.

Standing there was Cho Chang, her hair slightly streaked grey with age, wrinkles forming at the corner of her eyes when she smiled, as she was doing now, but otherwise exactly as she had been in school.

"Hey, Ginny, how're you doing?"

Ginny nodded coldly, and Harry got the impression that she wasn't feeling exactly hospitable to Cho Chang. A fleeting memory of the last D.A. class before Christmas, in the Room of Requirements, arrived in and escaped from Harry's mind in a matter of a moment.

Awkward silence. Then Harry said:

"Hi. Cho, what're you doing here? Are you gonna watch the Finals tomorrow?"

"Oh, yes, that too. But mainly, we're here to meet you, Harry. You and Ginny and all the kids... James! Albus, Lily, how are you children?"

"We...who all?"

"Oh, me and my family..."

She turned to a muscular man behind her who Harry hadn't noticed until then. The man showed off strength and an absurd calmness in his tranquil and alert face. He had a balding head with a few blonde hairs and a piggish face.

Another shock paralyzed Harry for a few moments.

Standing there, in front of him, was a forty-five-year-old Dudley Dursley.

* * *

The conversation did not drift toward Quidditch until after a full and hearty dinner. _Fit though he may be, _Harry thought_, it wasn't surprising to see that Dudley's appetite had only increased over the years._

"So there are, like, twelve teams in the entire tournament... at least, only twelve that actually matter. The others are all shitty excuses for Quidditch players," explained James to Sanya, Louis and Xaviere Dursley.

"Basically, we all support Ireland, except Lily, who supports Australia. She is pretty useless that way, but then again, you haven't seen her hex Malfoy ever, have you? Oh, his face when she does it! You are kind of smart, too, Lils..."

"Thanks a lot, James... really, I'm _honoured_ by your compliments," said Lily, rolling her eyes at her elder brother. James just shrugged as though he'd missed the sarcasm in the sentence. Albus, whose attention had drifted towards the adults' conversation, shushed his siblings.

"...oh, and guess what! Sanya, here, has been showing traces of magic too. We're all really excited for she'll turn eleven in a month! Perhaps in August we'll get her letter, too!" Surprisingly, it was Dudley speaking, and he seemed really proud of his youngest daughter.

"Yeah, she's done some brilliant accidental magic! Like once, she tried stealing the pudding that Dudley's mum had made and she got caught and then, when Petunia was trying to take it away, she made it hover in mid-air for the longest time before she let go and the pudding crashed to the floor..."

Dudley and Harry looked at each other, the crash of pudding smashing to the floor echoing in their minds, and burst out laughing.

"And another time, Mum was trying to lock her in her room as punishment for turning her potatoes green and every time she turned the lock or pushed the bolt shut, the lock would unlock its unlocked self and the bolt would ricochet as though it was attached to a spring! Oh, Mum's face was priceless!"

Everyone laughed, Harry loudest, at the thought of Aunt Tuney trying to figure out accidental magic.

"So, show us some magic, Sanya!" said James, looking at the youngest Dursley, half an hour later when the two couples had gone to get themselves some Muggle drinks from the bar next door.

Sanya, who was all for trying to impress the witch and the wizards, immediately scrunched up her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make some miracle happen. For a while, she sat there, in complete silence, with not an ounce of magic being betrayed in those brief moments.

Then, Sanya opened her eyes.

Albus gasped, James stared open-mouthed, just like Xaviere (the eldest Dursley), and Lily burst into violent sobs without preamble. But Louis' reaction was exceptional. He was looking at his little sister, with a terrified expression on his face, fear and shock radiating from him like sunlight radiates from the Sun.

That's because, it was he who she was looking at, with golden eyes and greenish vapour-like substance being emitted from her mouth as she spoke magical words at incomprehensible speed. She did not slow down until the last two lines:

"_**Yes, he has the Muggle power that interferes in her favour,**_

_**And for the good of the victims, it is one the Adversary does not savour."**_

"What the BLOODY HELL was that, Sanya?" said Harry, who had just entered the restaurant and was standing behind her, very pale and was resting on a chair as though afraid his knees might give way.

But she did not answer, because she had fallen to the floor like a ball of paper: crumpled, lifeless and almost-translucent white.

* * *

**HARRY P.o.V.**

Harry Potter knew enough about Divination. He knew a lot about Seers. And he had personal experience with Prophecies.

And he was dead sure that whatever Sanya had recited, it was NOT a prophecy, even though everyone else seemed only too convinced that it was.

Everyone had agreed that they wouldn't tell Sanya about the incident, for they were sure she wouldn't remember. Cho had put her to bed, telling her that she had performed yet another piece of exceptional accidental magic and the effort had drained her off all her energy. She said that Sanya needed rest.

Once the girl had gone to bed, everyone sat in the neighbouring room of the tent to discuss things. And to everyone's surprise, most of all, Ginny, James made a confession.

"It was MY fault!" he exclaimed, as soon as everyone had settled down. "I made her perform magic! I shouldn't have! And now she's gonna become some kinda Muggle zerombie!"

"Zombie," corrected Xaviere.

"Yeah, that one!" he cried out.

Despite the tension, Lily and Albus laughed, before looking at each with knowingness that only siblings can share. Oh James...

"James, just relax. She's fine. She was just a little too excited to show off her witchcraft! She's tired, that's all!" Harry spoke with the vital calmness of an Auror, which effectively soothed everyone down.

Cho said a little uncertainly: "But the Prophecy... she –"

"–did NOT recite any Prophecy, Cho! That was not a piece of brilliant Divination! That was accidental magic! NOT A PROPHECY! I know a LOT about them and that was NOT one!"

Harry got the impression that Cho and Dudley felt that he was a little too keen for it not to have been a prophecy. But Harry was sure of it. He'd never been surer in his life. Never.

"Look, okay, guys, I know what that was, and it wasn't a Prophecy. Not an original one anyways. It was part... o-of this Prophecy which has already been made. It was made by a recognized Seer."

Ginny looked at Harry with horror. _Not Rose's Prophecy! NO!_

"It is confidential business, so please don't ask about it, but Dudley, please, believe me when I say this, Louis is, well, he's part of the Prophecy too. Quite important but not the subject, if you know what I mean..."

Dudley didn't, but Harry didn't know how he could do anything to explain without giving away the contents of the Prophecy.

He just stared at the Dursley while he stared at him, no explanation or request for explanation being related between the two sides. All that there was now was trust. A trust that mutually conveyed the message: Dudley would not hesitate to break those round glasses and nose again if anything happened to Louis. But this was not a matter his expertise ranged in, and he would trust his cousin on this, for the first time in forty-two years.

* * *

**DUDLEY P.o.V.**

Dudley Dursley had never been so confused between happy and worried in his life. Happy because, after so many years of wishing he could, he was going to watch a Quidditch game. The World-cup finals, that too! Worried because, no matter how hard he tried, every time he looked at Sanya, the image of her crumpled body paralyzed him, the words that she had recited echoing in his head like a ghostly chant.

As they made their way up several flights of stairs for the game, on the twenty seventh of December, Dudley found himself staring at his daughter for a few moments as she chattered excitedly in blissful oblivion.

They reached their box and with a start, Mr. Dursley realized that his wife was introducing him to couple of identical Indian twins standing in front of two Indian men who were evidently their husbands.

"Meet Parvati and Padma; Padma was in my House in school, a year younger than me, while Parvati I know because she's her twin."

Harry knew them too, for he was smiling and giving them warm hugs as though they'd met after a long time.

"Do you know them, Harry?" asked Dudley, not sure why he did.

"Oh, yeah... we went to the Yule Ball together, Parvati and I, and Padma went with my best-mate and brother-in-law, Ron. You remember, he'd come home before my fourth year..."

At the mention of the Yule Ball, Dudley thought he caught an awkward glance passed between Harry and Cho but he let it pass. As it happened, now, he DID remember the boy who Harry had called Ron when the entire family of red-heads had arrived and demolished half their living room before taking Harry with them...

"Oh, enough chatter, now, guys! The game's about to begin!" Ginny seemed to be struggling to keep her excitement in.

Honestly, Dudley had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He made out seven whizzes blurring past their stand within a fraction of a second as the commentator announced the arrival of the Irish team. Leprechauns, as Cho said they were, threw about gold at the audience, but the coins seemed to disappear right after they landed on flat surface. The cheers were as loud as twenty football stadiums at the end of a game when the home team had won. This was to say, potentially deafening times twenty.

Then the Sri Lankans, seven yellow streaks of light taking rounds of the entire pitch, like a busy street shown in fast forward, showed off their brilliance and speed in a desperate effort of trying to outshine the Irish folk. A shower of blue sapphires coordinated with the cheers from the spectators, increasing in quantity as the volume of cheers was amplified.

A whistle blew somewhere, and the game officially began.

It was all happening so quickly, Dudley had to rewind and slow down everything through his binoculars so he could understand the situation. He had gotten a brief of the rules and aims the previous night from James (who seemed only too happy to discuss Quidditch and pranks) and Cho (who was more than enthusiastic to make him understand).

It did not take any time at all for the Irish to score eight goals in the first half hour. The Snitch was nowhere in sight and the Seekers wandered aimlessly, trying to get a glimpse of the small golden ball. The Sri Lankans had scored five goals too. And they seemed on the verge of scoring the sixth, but the Keeper of the Greens saved his twelfth save, now equalling the yellow Keeper's record.

He wished, now more than anytime else, that he too, was a wizard. That he too, could ride one of those brooms and fly away...

_A choking emptiness to over him and Dudley had only enough time to acknowledge the déjà vu feeling that had wandered in his consciousness. Memories of his mother's dead body gnawed on his mind, overlapping with the crumpled, lifeless body Sanya Dursley. A memory of him with Harry on a dark lonely street... blindness... his father fallen helplessly at the foot of the staircase in the house they had shifted after they had bade farewell to Harry... that man, Diggle, he had hexed him because his father had attacked him... Cho, crying when she first told him about Cedric Diggory, after he told her about Harry's nightmares before his fifth year... shivers creeping up his spine like creepy fingers of Death himself, slow, torturous..._

Somewhere near him, a familiar voice shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

* * *

**HARRY P.o.V.**

Harry had never ever sat through a Quidditch game yet with absolutely no funny incident taking place. The last time had been with Neville and Luna, four years ago, when someone had jinxed the Turkish teams' brooms so cleverly, it was undetectable but infinitely effective: the Turks slid off the brooms as though someone had dipped the sticks in slippery grease.

As he paced McGonagall's office, running his hands through his hair, Dumbledore's portrait was talking, slowly and gravely.

"... It's getting dangerous now, Harry. This is the time it's most dangerous. He's gotten stronger now. Except this time, there are no Horcruxes. None at all! There is different magic here. Ancient. Much more ancient. But unknown. Alas, that is the trouble! It is unknown!"

"... No Ron, no Hermione! Rose, all alone, she can't! She's seventeen! You can't make her do it! She'll break! You know she will! S-she... y-you can't... Rose..." And then he was out of words even though he hadn't said much at all.

"Look, Potter, don't waste your time complaining. She knows she has to. She's a Weasley and no matter what, she's as stubborn as the rest. She won't give up now, you know she won't! Your cousin and Miss Chang – or shall I say, Mrs. Dursley? – are recovering, along with their children and yours. As soon as they're ready to leave, I'd suggest you do. Muggles are strictly not allowed to enter Hogwarts premises."

"You're worried about rules, Professor?! When he's all ready to break them!?"

"This isn't about the rules, Potter! You know that Mr. Dursley, Louis Dursley, cannot stay here! You know it as well as I do!"

"Professor, he has a right to know!"

"He is a MUGGLE, Potter!"

"A Muggle who has been mentioned in the Prophecy! He has to know!" said Dumbledore, as Snape nodded besides him.

McGonagall hesitated. "Very well, then, Potter, take Dursley and wait outside the Gryffindor Tower. I'll bring Weasley there too."

* * *

**CHO P.o.V.**

A face was peering at her curiously. The face was familiar.

"Madame P-Pomfrey?" Her voice sounded weak, even to her.

"Shh, dear, don't talk yet. You need rest."

Rest sounded great. And she was slipping into darkness again.

Sounds jerked her back to reality, voices. Harry.

"Madame Pomfrey... I need Louis. I need him NOW. It's urgent."

"B-but..."

"Madame, he'll be back before you know it. This is essential."

Lou? Why Louis? Of course, Sanya's... _poem_...

"C'mon, Louis. I'll show you Hogwarts..." There was no mistaking the false confidence. This was more than a school tour...


	6. Chapter 5

**ROSE P.o.V.**

It was unbelievable, even to Rose herself, that she was going to turn seventeen in less than two months, because she was behaving like a seven-year-old.

For the past two days, she had sulked and yelled at El a lot. She had stopped replying to Albus' letters and torn the one where he had described to her the Dursleys without even reading the entire thing. There was something about some Sanya in the end, but Rose was far from interested about Albus' love life.

Little did she know how very unromantic a letter it was.

Eleanor, who had decided to stay back the Christmas only for Rose now seemed to be regretting it. She grunted yes or no when Rose asked her a question and had managed to wipe her ever present grin from her face. She had started calling Rose by her last name, too. Everything was now, 'Weasley, this' and 'Weasley, that'.

It was this reason that Rose thought it to be Eleanor waking her up in the middle of the night, three hours before dawn, saying, "Weasley, wake up. Weasley, WAKE UP NOW!"

"Shut up, El! It's not even morning yet! JUST SHUT UP!"

A hand shook her by the shoulder.

"WEASLEY, THIS IS URGENT! YOU DON'T WAKE UP RIGHT NOW AND I SHALL HAVE TO PUT YOU IN FRONT OF THE GIANT SQUID AGAIN!"

That did it. "Yes! I'm up, El!"

"That would be Professor McGonagall to you, Weasley! Up now, quick!"

More shocked than anything, Rose followed the Headmistress out of the Ravenclaw Common Room and past about twenty corridors until they stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady, thinking, _I just yelled at the Headmistress (who for some absurd reason had come to visit me at three in the morning) to shut up! I'm a genius!_

To her utter surprise, standing there at the portrait was Uncle Harry with another boy who Rose had never seen before. He was tall; about five foot ten, and had long blond hair that fell loosely over his muscular arms. He looked as though he had, for the first time ever, felt scared, for there was on his face, an expression of fear trying to hide behind awe.

"Rose, dear, how are you?"

"Uncle Harry? What are you doing here, at this time of the night, no less?"

"Rose, I understand y-you've been told about t-the Prophecy? The one Trelawney recited to your parents eight years ago."

"Who are you?" Rose asked Louis, ignoring the question. For some reason, she didn't want to answer her Uncle just yet.

"Louis Dursley, good morning! Uncle Harry's my dad's cousin."

"Oh, yeah, Al was telling me about you... So you're obviously not a wizard... what are you doing here exactly...?"

"Oh, yeah... I'm all non-magic! Um, I –"

"We've just come from the Quidditch Finals, Rose! I suppose Al told you we were going...?" Harry continued when Rose nodded. "Yeah, well, we were attacked by Dementors there actually." Rose gasped audibly. "The Muggles needed professional healing and I had work with Professor McGonagall, here..." He nodded at the Headmistress.

"There were Dementors... a-at the Quidditch World Cup Finals?"

"Twelve of them; they came to our stand. And only four of us could actually conjure a proper Patronus. It was a losing battle. Thankfully no one was Kissed. It's a blessing that Cho Apparated with the Sanya and Xaviere, Ginny with Lily and Albus. James took Louis and I got Dudley. It was bad. I sent Ginny and James messages and asked them to bring everyone here. The rest are in the Hospital Wing."

"Why? Why did Dementors attack?'

"You know about the Prophecy, Rose." It was not a question anymore.

Rose nodded uncertainly and said, "The 'magical art'; 'Death's mirth'; the 'Muggle power'... YOU!"

She didn't know how she put it all together. It just clicked in her brain. And she knew it was Louis, Louis Dursley, who looked stupider than a drunken Hippogriff waltzing with James to a crazy Swedish House Mafia dubstep tune. And honestly, that looked plenty stupid. Rose had personal experience.

"What the HELL is going on here, Uncle Harry? Prophecy...? What on earth?" Oh, the oblivion of an idiotic Muggle in Hogwarts! She hated Louis already.

* * *

**LOUIS P.o.V.**

Louis remembered the first time Sanya had performed accidental magic. And he had not wanted a reminder of the feelings that had attacked then, jealousy and pangs of fright. A witch! He had not known about his Mum before then – had not known about the existence of Hogwarts. It was horrifying.

And all the feelings had engulfed him again, on the day of the Quidditch Finals.

He had no idea how, or why. They just had and Louis had never hated himself more.

He had always craved attention: always wanted to be able to bully his siblings to do his bidding; wanted to attain dominance in the family. But there had been none of those things. He had become a street-side gangster, always stealing and smoking and beating up people. His father had never stopped him: he had thought Louis was just a dude hanging out all the time, for at home, none of his siblings were afraid of him. They would prank him all the time and make complicated jokes that he never understood. He hated when that happened. He felt like an outcast, between Sanya a genius _witch_ and Xaviere, not a witch but a genius anyways.

And then, after dinner that day, Sanya had pointed at him, had said things about him. And Uncle Harry had said he was important, had brought him to meet this girl, this Rose.

And for the first time in his life, he had felt important.

This importance had been multiplied by a thousand when he heard about the Prophecy. _HE would be the one, the one with power; he was, as Uncle Harry had said, VITAL (whatever that_ _was)._ _He would not be savoured by the enemy, which was good, apparently. This was brilliant!_

He had thought he would be unable to get over the excitement for his life. He would be working with a hot girl so he could save the world! It sounded unreal.

And then, the girl Rose, she had given him the look. The look he knew only too well, for he was accustomed to seeing it on his Biology project team every year, no exceptions. The look that said, _Oh, what have I got myself into! This is a disaster!_

* * *

**ROSE P.o.V.**

When morning came, (actual morning with sunshine and everything, not morning like three a.m. visitors wishing you good morning) Rose had still not gotten any sleep. Everything seemed too hotch-potch for her to get any sleep. And right then, she wanted nothing more than Scorpius Malfoy to help her untangle the mess.

Suddenly, with the firm agenda now, of wanting to make up with Malfoy, Rose dressed and made her ways to the Great Hall for breakfast, hoping he'd be there.

He wasn't.

Rose quickly gobbled down her breakfast, feeling terrible that her hopes had been crashed. There was only one other girl sitting on the small table that was set up for the Christmas: Cecilia Youth. And there was nothing Rose could talk to her about. So she walked right out of the Hall as soon as she was done eating.

On her way out, someone banged into her. And that someone was none other than Scorpius Malfoy.

"Excuse me plea- MALFOY!"

"Weasel! Not so good to see you this morning!" He spoke with false cheerfulness and extreme dryness.

"Malfoy, I-I just... IwantedtosayI'msorry!"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't catch that. Was that your scheme to make Ravenclaw win the next game as well? If it was, I'm not interested!"

"Shut up, Malfoy! I didn't, okay! I did NOT shoot the gun that day! It wasn't me! Why don't you believe me? I don't understand Quidditch! I don't! I wouldn't shoot at someone playing just cause my house is losing! That's mental! Have you never conside-"

She was interrupted by a tiny owl ramming into her head. It had a letter in his hand. Rose took the letter and shooed it away.

"-considered that it's YOU who is the idiot, not me, because your brains are just so stuffed with idiotic little games and self-centered attitude and meaningless words from your textbooks and- STOP IT, WILL YOU!"

Again she was interrupted by the same owl. It pecked her constantly and pointing its beak at the letter. Obviously, the letter was urgent. Rose sighed and tore it open.

_Dear Miss Weasley,_

_This is regarding the health of you parents, who have, just right now, been admitted to St. Mungo's Hospital. Their infection seems to have surged greatly and need for immediate treatment has called upon our services. We have been advised not to tell you but we think it prudent to let you know that this ailment may not be curable. We are disheartened to tell you that it will take them three complete full moon cycles before probable recovery and even after that, a month of hospitality here with us is advised. Mr. Harry Potter wanted to write to you about this himself but it seems that has been recently put under extreme stress which made him become really weak and get infected himself, as we detected when he came here an hour ago . We are currently treating all three of them in hope to make them better._

_Warm regards, _

_Bartemius Trinket _

Rose did not even notice that it was Malfoy, not her best friend Harry Styles, whose arms she had clenched. She did not notice that Eleanor and Dan had just come down and were staring in shock at Rose's stricken expression and limped body. She did notice when Dan reached out for the letter and read it silently himself.

She did not notice anything except the feeling of out-of-control tears trickling down her cheeks, as though her mind thought that it would be easier if every single word in that letter was discarded off with each tear drop that escaped her blinded eyes...

* * *

**MCGONAGALL P.o.V.**

Ronald and Hermione were down and so was Harry. And Minerva McGonagall was dead certain that anyone who visited them would catch the infection as well. That was the main reason she did not allow Weasley to go to St. Mungo's and visit her parents with her brother.

_"But, Professor, I must see them! The letter said they might not be able to cure them! And what will I do if they really can't? What if this is the last time I will get to see them?!" _

_"Stop acting like a child, Weasley! You're seventeen, not seven!" At this a flicker sped through Rose's eyes and Minerva got the feeling that Rose had told herself that too many times already. "Weasley, your parents will be fine! Longbottom is sure of it. And I'd trust Longbottom's judgements when it came to plants. Really, you need to keep calm and concentrate on your lessons"_

McGonagall felt guilty about not letting Weasley meet her parents. But there was no taking the risk. She couldn't rely on the chance that Weasley wouldn't get Spattergoit as well.

Ugh! It was the most difficult job, choosing between someone who was as good as your daughter and your brother... If only this wasn't true!


End file.
